Concerto in Allegro Feroce
by thecupcakeimp
Summary: The moment was allegro, each movement we made was resolute. Sure. Zemyx, rated M for lemon, oneshot.


**A/N:** Alright, this is the chapter that I just sort of... couldn't fit into Lullaby Mysterioso. So this is the 'missing' chapter. What I was planning when the rating was 'M'. XD But... it just never happened, and I had a few friends who read my stories at school say, "Hey, didn't you say there was supposed to be lemon in this...?" And I facepalmed and went off to write this for them, and a few other people.

Speaking of which, this is specifically dedicated to Peppermint Mocha, who seriously rocks my socks.

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**Concerto in Allegro Feroce**

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The moment was allegro, each movement made was resolute. Sure.

We kissed each other furioso, so passion we left each other breathless.

"Demyx," he breathed, pianissimo.

"Huh?" I said, pulling back a little to watch his indigo eyes.

"What are you thinking right now?"

"Well," I kissed him again, "I'm thinking that our tempo is a little slow."

"Shall we speed it up?"

"Let's take allegrissimo."

"What were we at?"

"Just allegro."

His smirk became more mischievous. He pulled me back to where there was less sand.

So, we were supposed to be getting things done… since we were on a mission to deliver some staff in Agrabah. To Jafar. Neither of us liked the whiney old guy anyway.

Perhaps we enjoyed the idea of the hot Arabian days.

It was hot here, and well… there was this little rendezvous tent in the middle of the desert that was supposed to be used to change into clothes to blend in with the 'locals' a bit more.

We obviously weren't using it for just that.

He ran his nimble fingers through my hair and we kissed as we went down on one of the Persian rugs, easily reminding me of the bright sun outside and the open markets of this world.

His kisses were all little accent marks on the page, his hands slurs, so smooth and sure as he pulled the long zipper of my cloak down. I tugged it off, eager to drive the tempo on.

"You know…" he said as I began pulling his cloak off, "Most members smell more of just their elements, but not you."

"What?" I said before placing kisses on his neck.

"You smell of a certain place."

"Where would that be, my illusionist?"

"Like the ocean at night," he said in an exhalation.

"You smell like mint and lavender."

"Do I really?"

"Mhmm. Just barely." I pulled his black shirt off to run my hands over his bare chest. His muscles were lightly toned, enough for all his movements to be lithe and grazioso. It was my turn to smirk.

"You kind of smell really good."

"Shut up," he said as my shirt came off too.

"You know I'm not good at being quiet."

"Yes I do," he said and bit my lip, grinding his hips against mine. I moaned mezzo-forte and he chuckled. "As shown in Figure A."

"Oh you shut up, you know me—ah!—too well." He bit my neck, marcato, tongue running along the spot gently.

"That I do."

Our bodies now had a light sheen of sweat. We were in the middle of the desert after all. He worked my pants off with ease, crouching over me with that mischievous grin. "Demyx, what the hell?"

"They're new, d'you like them?"

"Goldfish. On your boxers."

"Awesome, aren't they?"

He kissed me, and I knew it was because I was talking too much.

"You're so strange," he said. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him down onto me. He framed my face with his hands as I tugged his pants off, both of us moving together, the duet we were making becoming more intricate.

The Arabian sun beat down on the tent, our breaths dictating the tempo.

"Demyx," he said, slightly breathless again, indigo eyes lusty.

"Yeah?" I said, looking up at him.

"Make me feel."

I held him tighter and flipped him over, covering him with kisses, down his chest, biting and sucking on his skin. I moved myself against him, earning a hitch in his breath.

Zexion wasn't as vocal as I was about his pleasure, but I had figured out what he liked. He didn't like getting teased too long—we got sent on missions a lot anyway. He liked it a little rough, if anything, a quick burst of rubato movements, keen on the accelerando, watching the conductor's cues and following eagerly.

He leaned his head back, tangling his fingers in my hair like cluster chords, pulling lightly as I sucked harder on his neck. He slid his hands down my back, sending a shiver along with them. We were con muso now, bordering accesso. He lifted my chin to kiss me hungrily, nibbling on my lip, grace notes to intensify the moment.

"Demyx," he panted, "Faster."

"Yes, maestro," I smirked down at him, reaching into my discarded cloak for a tiny bottle of lube. I'd learned my lesson- meaning not being able to sit right for a while.

I warmed a little on my fingers and pressed one into him, his little gasp like a staccato note. I waited a moment before adding a second. Rest a measure. He gripped my length, stroking as I pressed in a third. He gave a light moan as I moved my hand, arching his back, panting harder now.

We were past allegrissimo now, we were at allegro feroce. Affretando, brioso, rinforzando.

He held my shoulders in a tight grasp as I pulled my fingers from hi, quickly slicked myself, and hit a cesura.

He looked up at me and narrowed his eyes. As if he knew exactly what I was thinking. We were going pretty fast- shouldn't we make this last a little—

"Demyx," he said, glaring.

"Yes, love?" I teased, kissing him tenderly.

He squirmed for a moment and started moving his hips. I gasped loudly as our lengths rubbed together.

"I want it _now,_" he whispered, voice lusty, piano, and seductive.

"But—"

He pulled my head down and lightly bit my ear. He was cheating and he knew it. He knew perfectly well what happened when he messed with my earlobes. I let out a loud moan, clenching my eyes shut for a moment.

I didn't need more persuading.

I got back at him by leaning down to bite the side of his neck, almost his shoulder, as I pushed inside of him. He let out a mezzo-forte gasp of his own, his arms pulling me tightly against him. We started moving faster, our tempo taking another accelerando to presto. Our breaths were getting faster, crescendoing.

Faster, louder, harder, decio.

Follow the conductor's rhythm.

The hot Arabian sun.

He moved his hips with mine, our duet now winding towards a new height.

I reached between us and started stroking him roughly. He leaned his head back again, fingers digging into my shoulders, sweat rolling off of us.

"Faster!" and I obeyed, charging the accelerando even faster, just trying to reach the pivotal point of the movement.

We hit sforzando together. I let out a forte cry of pleasure and his was a sostenuto moan. We let the climax wash over us, the moment a forte-piano, the intensity fading into dolce, at adagio, almost legato.

I pulled out and we lay together on the Persian rug, in the tent, under the sun. He was flushed, glistening with sweat, looking wonderfully, eyes sparkling rather warmly.

"Well," he said, trying to even his breathing, "We can't just go to the Palace like—_shit_ Demyx!" he yelped. I, laughing, had called on my element and sent a jet of water through my hair, and proceeded to call upon enough to drench us.

Now he was glaring at me.

"Well, we couldn't go to the Castle now could we, my dear Zexion?" I said, chuckling. I rinsed us both off completely, and we were off at a brisk allegretto, the duet going on.

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We completed our mission as quickly as we could (Zexion ended up casting an illusion over us both so we didn't have hickeys or bite marks that were visible), and headed back. However, he let my illusion fade, and kept his own.

"Hey, Dem, what's that on your neck?" Axel snickered.

"A souvenir," Zexion smirked as he went to make tea.

"Hey!" I said indignantly, insistendo as I followed.

He chuckled, covered the mark and went back to the stove.

I sighed and sat down at the table.

"Did you file our mission already?" I asked.

"Yes, and apparently we took 'far longer than was necessary' to complete it," he smirked and turned to face me as he leaned against the counter.

"Pfft," I waved my hand, dismissing the matter.

He moved over, grazioso, and sat in my lap.

"There's a chai-"

"You're more comfortable," he stated.

Excuses, excuses.

We went on in the sonata of existence, continuing on with the sheet music before us, without any hesitation. Yes, we missed notes occasionally, but for the most part, everything was going smoothly. One of those perfect performances. This life... was turning out pretty well.


End file.
